


A kind of emergency

by chaoticneurobivergent



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticneurobivergent/pseuds/chaoticneurobivergent
Summary: They had their routine: Pidge made tea, Keith brought blankets, they sat at ground level and took the time to analyse the situation. They stopped time, or maybe it was more reality granting them the break they needed. Everything was always happening from everywhere, and when they couldn't handle it no more, they bit into their necklaces more strongly, they pushed frenetically on their fidget cubes, they spinned their rings until the pattern was unrecognizable. They managed, eventually.- Keith and Pidge are bff and support each others when life got too overwhelming.





	A kind of emergency

**Author's Note:**

> another old work I originally wrote in 1h for a game [in french and on ff.net ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12896320/1/Une-sorte-d-urgence)  
> I then posted a first english translation [on my writing tumblr](https://ghostkartenwriter.tumblr.com/post/166226467281/a-boy-can-bleed)  
> This one is an updated version, enjoy!

**keith:** hmm don't text me anymore, i'm back on computer

 **pidge:** ??

 **keith:** can you come? it's uhhhh a kind of emergency

 **pidge:** i'll be in pjs

Pidge still grabbed a sweat on her way to Keith's room, just a floor above. “A kind of emergency” was a questionable explaination which usually wouldn't make Pidge move that fast – if at all. Especially not when she was low on spoons, when it was 10pm, and when her homework due for the next day was still waiting for her to write it. Yet, it was for a probably-freaked-out Keith, and curiosity was enough to tip the scale in her decision making.

As soon as the door opened, she was welcomed by grunts and a Keith who was sharply chewing on his necklace.

“Okaaay. What's happening?”

Pidge didn't wait for an immediate answer and walked to the kitchen to boil some water while Keith stared at the ground some more and walked in circles for a few more seconds before sitting against his bed. She heard him forcing himself to breath deeply behind the loud noise of the kettle. Then it cooled down, opening the way for a quiet voice to speak.

“So. Hm” started Keith while Pidge took mugs out. “I don't know if you replied to my last texts, but as I was saying: I was gonna ask Lance to hang out.”

“Yep” replied Pidge softly. “I was telling you it was cool, and I was asking how you wrote it.”

“Well I wanted to go with what you suggested the other day. But I prefered sending something more chill first? To, I don't know, to not get into it right away? Neurotypicals do that apparently?”

Pidge nodded while the water flowed on the teabags. Once it was done, she put the two filled mugs down and sat in front of Keith, waiting fo rhim to continue – because there had to be more to this story, especially seeing how hard Keith was fidgeting with his jacket's zip.

“So I did that.”

Or maybe that was all.

“Cool! Now you can wait for him to reply.”

“He replied, I heard the notification.”

“And you replied back..?”

Keith silently took his mug, hoping the tea would loosen his throat. It didn't, but he still allowed himself two sips – just some more time to pretend this whole thing didn't happen - before coming back to what Pidge just said.

“Well... no.”

“Keith! You can do it! You want me to type the text for you?”

“No, thanks, it's just... I can't.”

“Duuuude. I get the communication struggles, but you're so close now!”

Keith was still hiding behind his tea, avoiding reality itself as much as Pidge's searching glare on his red face. It was a conversation they had plenty of times – too many times – but something seemed off. Usually, when he needed comfort, Keith would say it right away – or at least he would say it differently, and Pidge would get it. Here, though, comfort wasn't what he was looking for. A bit of pressure, maybe?

“It's gonna become weird if you make him wait too long. He would go to sleep and then it's just gonna be worst.”

“I know, but, uuuugh.”

“Seriously, moreover there's no way he would say no!”

Keith got back to his cup of tea, not even trying to be subtle anymore: he didn't take his eyes off it. And Pidge knew he wouldn't say one more word anytime soon. Keith struggled with communication, and even more when it came to communicating with Lance. He had always been a mess, taking hours at best to reply to a simple text, overthinking every single interaction they ever had – from Lance “eventually maybe flirting?” with him to Lance saying “hi” -, but when Pidge had gotten Keith's first text at the beginning of the evening, she had thought he was determined enough to do it right. She had even told herself it was it, it was for tonight, once and for all. Though, clearly, something else happened.

It wasn't uncommon for Keith to slip away of exhausting situation, it had happened several times already – was it about Lance or not – and so Pidge would come over. Sometimes they only talked about something else, sometimes Pidge helped him to formulate his texts, once Pidge even called for him – it had been hell for her too, but they hadn't had the choice. They had their routine: she made tea, he brought blankets, they sat at ground level and took the time to analyse the situation. They stopped time, or maybe it was more reality granting them the break they needed. Everything was always happening from everywhere, and when they couldn't handle it no more, they bit into their necklaces more strongly, they pushed frenetically on their fidget cubes, they spinned their rings until the pattern was unrecognizable. And when everything was going too fast, sometimes their voices closed. It often happened to Keith. So Pidge was waiting, warming her hands against her cup, for Keith's voice to open again.

Pidge felt him tensed up before she noticed the frown and the tapping fingers against the ground. She moved closer and held her hand out, asking in a whisper is that was okay. When Keith nodded, she laid her arm on his shoulder, her hand falling right on his head to softly stroke his hair. Her fingers focused on a simple and repetitive cycle which will, she hoped, help chasing down the chaos inside Keith. Pidge didn't know how much time passed by, but there wasn't much tea left when two little words shattered the silence.

“I can't.”

“What's in the way, Keith?” Pidge tried to keep her voice gentle and neutral – they weren't in a hurry anyway. “You don't find the words? His answer is rude? Or.. I don't know, I'm out of ideas.”

Keith leaned against Pidge, closed his eyes to focus on the fingers in his hair. It was simple, it was safe.

“I panicked and threw my phone out of the window.”

“Dude, you know I love you, but sometimes you wore me out.”

She felt the growl against her shoulder as an answer.

“It's true! Anyway, more seriously. You're on the second floor. Your window overlooks the parking lot-”

“Whatever it's destroyed.”

“You checked?”

“No! I can't. But it's dead anyway.” Keith zipped his jacket up and hide in his collar as a mumbled: “I had two thousand pictures and Lance's number and it's _des-troyed_ , just because I can't handle feelings.”

He started pulling away – probably to curl up, Pidge was sure of it, so she stopped his movement.

“He he he, come here.”

Keith turned his head. He might had his voice back, but his face still looked devastated – all red and eyes wet, guilt and self-hate trying to find a way to stay and ruin his night. Pidge took him in her arms. She wasn't good either to put words on what she wanted to say. The thoughts were there, she felt them well, but when she tried to share them nothing was taking shape – or sometimes it only looked like a shadow, not clear enough to be understood. Silence spoke well for them, anyway. It had always been like that. A few words dropped here and there was enough to make the other understand what they meant – it only worked between them, though. But Pidge couldn't picture herself trying on some “it's okay”, “feelings are hard”, “we will get through it”, because those words didn't mean enough right now. It was more complicated than that, she knew how it could be – and Keith knew, too. Sometimes it was better to not say anything, to let the silence wrap themselves, and to hold each others tight while the time stopped. And afterwards, when they could deal with the chaos again, they will face the issue head on.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to leave a comment and/or a kudo and/or follow me!


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